The Key in the Heart

Вот такое вот написалось очень неожиданно. Если честно, то оно мне приснилось, и потом полгода мучило.
Или оно меня, или я - его:)
Я осознаю, что мало кто сможет понять, о чем это, но если кто-то поймет,
то я была бы очень признательна.
В двух словах - детская сказка:)

There once was a boy
The size of your toe.
He was nice as could be,
But he couldn’t grow.

The years just passed
And his friends all grew tall.
But the boy stayed the same;
He could not grow at all.

Wherever he went
No one noticed or cared,
Since nobody saw him
Or knew he was there.

He worried and fretted.
His plight seemed quite tragic.
Then one day he realized,
“Of course! I need magic!”

He set off to find some.
He searched high and low,
Through valleys of green grass
And mountains of snow.

He crossed the Atlantic
With one sole ambition—
To seek out a Wizard
Or some great Magician.

His quest finally led
To the top of a hill
To a famous Magician
Called Somerset Mill
“Mulberry, cranberry,
Gooseberry-bell,”
Mill murmured and whispered
A fanciful spell.
He emptied his cauldron
Of shimmering bubbles
And picked up a key:
“Here’s the Key to your troubles!”

A key? Just a key?
How could it be so?
Would this little key
Really help the boy grow?

But Mill simply vanished,
Not saying a word.
The boy couldn’t quite
Understand what he’d heard.
Confused and unhappy
The boy looked around.
Now where should he go?
Oh! What was that sound?

Something was knocking
From under the tree.
“Help! Help! I am trapped here!
Please, someone save me!”
Who was this calling?
A scared little mole,
Crying, “Rescue me! Save me!
I’m stuck in this hole!”

“What shall I do?”
Thought the boy.
“Let me see…
All that I need
Is a magical key.”

Crickety, crackety
Screeched the key.
The door swung open,
The mole was free!

So that was the answer?
The magical key?
But the boy was no taller…
It was not meant to be…

He trudged on through the woods
Barely glancing around.
Now, what was this cabin?
And what was that sound?

Someone was crying
“Help! Please set me free!
A witch locked me in here.
Can you rescue me?”
Who was this crying,
Locked up by a crone?
A little black polecat
Afraid and alone.

“What shall I do?”
Thought the boy.
“Let me see…
All that I need
Is a magical key.”

Crickety, crackety
Screeched the key.
The door swung open,
The polecat was free!

Maybe it worked now?
The magical key?
But the boy was no taller…
It was not meant to be…

His spirits sank lower
No hope to inspire…
But what was that sound?
And what was that fire?

Someone was screaming,
“Help! Please set me free!
My house is on fire!
Can you rescue me?”

Who was this screaming,
Her voice rising higher?
A little white kitty,
Trapped by the fire.

“What shall I do?”
Thought the boy.
“Let me see…
All that I need is…
But where is the key??

It’s not in my pocket.
It’s just disappeared!
Maybe lost in the forest…”
Or that’s what he feared.

“Crickety, crackety,”
He said as before,
And now, magic or not,
He just kicked in the door.

Smoke swirled all around.
He could not see inside.
“Come to me, little kitty!
I’ll help you—don’t hide!”

The cat was so frightened
She shook like a leaf.
The boy took her outside
And they sighed with relief.

For now they were safe.
But the best thing of all—
The boy suddenly realized

That he had grown tall!

And so he went home,
Where under a tree
Stood Somerset Mill
With the magical Key.

He smiled and he whispered,
(he really was smart):

“The boy had the Key,
The Key in his heart”